


Help Is Always There For Those Who Ask

by donnarafiki, gameofdrarrymod, orpheous87



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Depression, Epistolary, Friendship, Getting Together, Healer Draco Malfoy, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, No healer/patient, Post-War, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 19:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18901135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donnarafiki/pseuds/donnarafiki, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gameofdrarrymod/pseuds/gameofdrarrymod, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orpheous87/pseuds/orpheous87
Summary: It's been years since the war, and Harry's been doing fine (Not!Auror). But after witnessing a violent incident in muggle London, he feels empty and angry. Eventually, he reaches a breaking point and has an outburst in public. The next day he finds a letter on his desk, the Ministry reaching out to connect him with a mind healer, saying they don’t even have to see each other, and everything can be done privately if Harry wants to keep it anonymous and confidential. He decides to write back.





	1. Letter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the 2019 Owlery Exchange. The authors were matched and corresponded back and forth anonymously as Harry and Draco for the duration of the exchange until reveals.
> 
> [Donnarafiki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/donnarafiki) wrote as Draco.  
> [Orpheous87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orpheous87) wrote as Harry.

Er, hi, 

I’m not really sure how to go about this. I don’t know who I’m writing to because all the letter gave me was an address and I’ve just got to trust that this finds the right person. 

I’m contacting you because, well, I think the Ministry might be right. I… I need help. Or advice, maybe. I’m not sure if they’re the same thing. 

The letter mentioned we can keep this anonymous? ~~I don’t~~ I want to tell you who I am, but not yet. I need to figure things out first. 

I was involved, quite heavily, in the war a few years ago and I thought I’d come out of it quite well. I had nightmares, of course, but nothing more. I thought I’d managed to move on but recently I witnessed a, quite frankly, horrific incident while I was walking in Muggle London and it brought back all the memories that I’d suppressed. I couldn’t do anything to help, and that made me angry. It was the kind of anger I’ve not felt in a long time, and if I’m honest, it scared me. 

I’ve had… trouble reaching out for help in the past and I don’t want to go there again. I know my friends are there for me but… they’ve also moved on and are… in a much better place than me. 

Can… can you help?


	2. Letter Two

Hello Stranger,    
  
Your letter found me perfectly well, not to worry.    
  
Whether I am the right person though, that is for you to decide. As someone who’s been through rough times myself, I will try my best to help you, but if you do not trust me then there is only so much I can do.    
  
However, I do not want you to take the decision to give me that trust lightly. I am bound to strict confidentiality, and even if I was not, I would never do something as plebeian as gossip about other people. Still, trusting someone with your problems can be very difficult, and if you do not feel comfortable talking to me, then please do not hesitate to say so.    
  
Now that we have had the formal part, I want to tell you that I am very proud of you for seeking help. That is not an easy step to take. And now that you’ve asked for it, you want help, or advice, as you say.    
  
I am not a therapist in the traditional sense of the word, for whatever backwards logic the ministry still thinks we do not need those, but I am an expert in my field and I will try my best to be your friend. You mentioned not wanting to impose on your current friends, so anything you do not want to say to them, you can say to me. It is what I am here for, what I signed up for and what I want to do, so never feel like there is something you can’t tell me, or like you write too often or too much.    
  
As far as advice goes, I am sure you have been told a million times before to ‘take a step back, count to ten and relax’ when you feel your anger rise. It is not very helpful advice for that very reason, because if you strongly believe something will not work, then you are probably right.    
  
What I find to be helpful, in any kind of situation involving a lot of emotions, is writing everything down. The most important thing is, especially when you feel like you might not be able to keep yourself or your magic in check, is removing yourself from the situation. Once you have done that, your ink and quill (or your pen, whichever you prefer) is your best friend.    
  
I have written countless letters to people who I felt had wronged me, people who made me feel angry, powerless, people who hurt me. I never send them, but once the words are on the pages, they are no longer in your head. And when they are no longer in your head, it is much harder to stay angry.    
  
The step after that requires some extra work. I want you to make a list of all the things you enjoy. They don’t have to be big, it can be as simple as getting some ice cream or running in through your local park, just as long as they are fun and preferably easy.    
  
Once you write everything that made you angry down, I want you to look at your ‘fun’ list, pick something to do, and with that take your mind off whatever happened. These are all very basic tips, but this is all I can do with the information you gave me.    
  
I think it would be easier for me to try and help you if you could tell me more about yourself, specifically about the attack and what kind of memories that brought back. I understand that this is difficult, but I am afraid that recovery is not easy. I still have nightmares about things I have never talked about, simply because I have not found the time to speak about everything. The war might have lasted only three years, but most of us experienced several lifetimes worth of hurt and trauma. It is okay to not have recovered from that. Okay to not be okay.    
  
I will end this letter with one extra piece of advice. You say you suppress your memories. I want you to stop doing that. When a memory comes back, or you have a nightmare, write them down, talk to someone, do not swipe such things under the rug because they will come back to haunt you.    
  
I know it is daunting to break the silence. I have been silent for years after the war, but in the end that will only make things worse. If it makes you feel any better, I have had conversations that lasted for hours with my cat, Alexandra, about everything that happened to me.    
  
I have never told anyone about that before, but I am telling you now, in the hope that you trust me and see that being a little crazy does not have to be a bad thing. I would not be where I am today if I never talked to my cat. Do not let the expectations of society stop you from getting better.    
  
With kind regards,   
  
A friend

  
  



	3. Letter Three

Hello again, 

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I sent my letter off. I suppose there is some truth in your words that writing things down helps though because once I had dropped my letter off at the Post Office I did feel a bit better. I don’t have an owl myself. Not anymore. When I did have one, I used to talk to her a lot. Much like you and your cat, I expect. It does help to know that I’m not the only one to talk to a pet. 

I can’t explain it, but… your letter does make me feel that I can trust you. You have a way with words, and I believe you could be the right person. It’s comforting to know that you’re an expert in this kind of stuff, because like I said in my last letter, I’ve never done this before. 

I know that my friends will be upset that I don’t think I can talk to them, but the truth is, I’ve not felt able to talk to them for a long time. They’re happy. Starting a family. I can’t be the one to drag all the bad memories up again, they’d never forgive me. 

You’re right, it never helped to be told to take a step back and breathe when I was at school, nevermind now. It had the opposite effect, and I know I’ve always been hot headed but I can’t help that. I’d like to think I got better as I got older but then the attack happened and showed me that I’m maybe not as good at controlling myself as I thought I was. 

I wasn’t personally involved in the attack, but I still feel sort of… responsible. Not because I organised it or anything, but because I couldn’t _help_. It was… I was walking quite late at night - walking helps me cope if I’m having a bad day. A walk always calms me down. I was in town, walking past all the Muggle nightclubs and pubs. I’m not a big drinker, but being around people who are has never bothered me. I like to walk through the area when it’s busy, there’s always a good atmosphere. 

But that night, it felt different. It was weird. I had a feeling that something was wrong. Then I was walking past one of the nightclubs and there was this couple - a gay couple - walking the opposite way to me. They’d passed me and then there was a lot of shouting - angry shouting - and when I turned to see what was going on… a large group of men had surrounded the couple. It was… aside from the battle, I’ve never really seen violence on that level. I desperately wanted to intervene, but I couldn’t move. Even if I could have, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything. There were at least ten of them and I’m, well, I’m not the biggest and I was in Muggle London. I couldn’t have taken them on without the use of my wand and the other people that were there wanted nothing to do with it. They pretended not to see what was happening. 

I suppose that might be what made me so angry. After being at Hogwarts where everyone fought together during the battle, I think it shocked me that people weren’t willing to get involved. That and the fact that it could have easily been me who was being attacked. I’m bisexual and wouldn’t think twice about walking down the street with my partner, whether I was with a man or a woman. At least I wouldn’t have before this.

Added to that, I suppose it brought back memories of innocent people being targeted during the war just because of their blood status. I’m not pureblood, but I’m not Muggleborn either, so I was never a target in that sense. But seeing others who I considered friends persecuted was hard. Not being able to speak up for them without being afraid of retribution was harder. Not that I was really afraid, but I had to be careful. My head of house warned me multiple times. I sometimes had trouble listening. 

Wow. I thought I would have trouble with opening up to a stranger, but I think that it actually helps that I don’t know who you are. I’m sorry if that doesn’t make sense. I just wrote as I was thinking about it. 

I feel like I’m taking up a lot of your time (I know you told me not to feel that but I can’t help it). I’ll end my letter here for now and go and write myself a list of things I enjoy doing, as you’ve asked. I may even write some angry letters, though it’ll be hard to pick a recipient at the minute - not because I’m angry at a lot of people, but because I’m _not_ really angry at anyone specifically. 

I also promise to stop suppressing memories. Well, I’ll try to stop. I’ll try to write things down. Maybe I’ll scream into a pillow… that used to help me during school holidays. Anyway. 

Until next time.


	4. Letter Four

Hello Stranger,

I am glad to read that you have already discovered the perks of writing things down. It can seem silly, writing down your thoughts, when you feel like you should be able to just ignore them or throw them out. They are _your_ thoughts, after all. But the human brain doesn’t work like that.

Just like talking to a pet seems silly. My rule over the years has become, if it doesn’t harm, but it does help, there is no reason not to do it. And if you still feel silly after that, just remember muggles talk to a rubber duck when they have issues.

It is great to hear I have gained your trust so far; that will make it easier for you to benefit from these letters. Do not be afraid of the unknown, I say, for I promise I will clue you in on everything I am trying to do, and if I ever say something you do not understand, do not be afraid to ask me about it.

As for what you said about not feeling like you can talk to your friends, I find myself very understanding of that feeling. I have been there. Your friends move on, start new things, and when you feel stuck in the past they are growing out of, it may seem like they are leaving you alone, like they are moving on, not just from their old pain, but from _you_.

What helps me in those moments, is to remember that moving on, is not as simple as turning the page of a book, as starting a new chapter. A human life is not a linear story, it is more like a tapestry.

You are born already with the start of a tale, a history from your family, from your parents and those that came before, and each memory, each event, every person in your life, all your emotions, they add a thread. Some threads are dark, some are almost as white as the blank background, some shine in the night, some are green like a forest in spring.

The focus is, or at least should be, on the part of your tapestry where threads are getting added, where your present lies. And the way you see your tapestry, see your history, your present, the lines of future promise, is coloured by the lens of your current emotional state.

Your tapestry can seem dark when you look at it through the dark lens of the war you survived. It is difficult to start adding bits of colour at first, difficult to see what kind of colour you are adding at all, when your view on life is so dark.

But _seeing_ your tapestry as dark, does not mean that it _is_. You cannot change your whole life overnight, and you cannot change your past at all, but what you can do, baby step by baby step, is change the way you see your life and the things that happened to you. Change your lens.

It will not change the truly dark parts, but bit by bit, what first seemed like a big black hole, will start to get some patches of grey, and here and there maybe even a dash of pink. The way you experience life and your past right now, the way you see your future, is not set in stone. It is a marvellous story filled with so many details it would take multiple lifetimes to have a look at it all and yet you experience all of that in just one life.

I do not know how much this analogy will speak to you, but it helped change my view on life, and it helped me realise that by moving on, my friends were not turning a page, leaving me to gather dust on a shelf. They are your friends for a reason, they want you in their lives, and odds are, they’ve run out of dark threads quite some time ago and are dying to add some colour, not just to their own story, but to yours.

It can be difficult to see that if your lens is dark, but that is why I am here. To help you past your war experience. I want to make sure that the war will become something you accept as part of your story. Something that you do not suppress (and I am thrilled to hear you will no longer be doing that) but process, then give it a place in your mind, before focussing on where you are now. Because we are no longer at war, and I want you to be aware of that in every aspect of your life. If you do not give your trauma a spot, and you see it again during a flashback, you just hurt yourself twice.

As for the attack you described, I had to take a step back when I read that. I am myself a gay man, and I have been attacked like that, albeit sans partner. I have some very specific and personal tips because of that, namely, if you ever find yourself as a witness again, call the police, stay close to the attack without putting yourself in danger, do not try to stop the attack if you know you will never win that fight, and (especially if things get really out of hand and police are far away) try to persuade the people around you to step in together. More often than not, people want to do something, they just do not want to take that first step.

When the attack is over, go to the victim, tell them help is on its way, and show them compassion, but not pity. Big emotions can stop us from acting in certain situations, but having a step by step plan of what to do can sometimes help kick us into action. If that does not work, however, or you find yourself unable to stay or help (due to, for example, accidental magic or a panic attack), do not beat yourself up about that. Someone else has already literally taken blows that night, making yourself feel bad will not help anyone.

Of course emotions do not easily listen to reason, but you can shape them to be more useful to you. Take that anger and put it in a fiery speech to change people’s minds, instead of using it to defend those who were hurt with force, as that will only lead them and you into deeper trouble. Use the anger not to yank at the branches, but stick a spade in the roots.

Then on a last note, it is perfectly understandable that you find it easier to talk to someone you do not know. It enables you to talk more freely, without fear of being judged (which I would not do even if we did know each other). So yes, that does make perfect sense. And writing as you think helps me understand you so I can help you better, so please do not shy away from that.

Screaming into a pillow can also help, though I would like you to write down what it was exactly what made you feel that way. I do not need to read that (though of course you are more than welcome to tell me), but you do need to get it off your chest.

I will end this letter by saying again that you are not taking up a lot of my time. In fact, if you do not write I will probably get bored and pet my cat until she goes bald and that would be a great shame, so please feel free to write whatever you like. I would also like you to try and take a moment each day, preferably at random, to ask yourself if you and your actions are at peace. By which I mean, is any of what you have just done, motivated by something that came from the war?

I found myself taking pain killing potions just before dinner each evening, under the disguise of a headache, but in reality I was still numbing myself to what used to happen during dinner in the war. It took me two years to finally realise I was doing that, and even longer to fully stop. Habits like that keep our body and mind in fight or flight mode, which comes with a free bucket of stress and fear and anger that you do not need in your life.

So, I want you to examine your own behaviour a bit this week, only gently, one thing at a time, baby steps, not because I think you cannot handle more, but because doing more is incredibly dangerous and risky. Just take one thing at a time, think about what you do, why you do it, put it in the context of our current peace and see if it still makes sense there. If it does not, then maybe it is time to change them. Not radical changes, but gradual ones.

If you discover anything noticeable about yourself, I would love to hear about it.

With kind regards,

A Friend


	5. Letter Five

Hello again, 

I must admit I have begun to look forward to your letters. 

Now that I’ve done it, I don’t think it is silly to write my thoughts down. In fact, I’ve started to think it’s more silly _not_ to write them down. Talking to a pet has never seemed silly to me either. Sometimes I used to think the only sensible conversation I got was with my owl. Certainly better than talking to a rubber duck - at least my owl reacted to my words! 

I’m not afraid of anything you’ve said so far, and I don’t think I will be in the future. Your words, even though they’re just written on parchment, seem to calm me as much as a walk does - I _am_ still taking walks though, so don’t worry about me becoming a recluse (as tempting as it is sometimes). I like the outdoors too much to confine myself to my house. Plus, sometimes, it’s too big and empty for me to stay there.

I feel like I need to tell you my name. ~~I can’t~~ I don’t feel pressured to tell you, I want you to know that. But I feel like I can’t really speak freely if I don’t tell you because I’m too aware that giving you certain information will let you know who I am. 

I’m going to confess that I cried while reading your comparison of life to a tapestry. It makes so much sense in my head that I couldn’t stop myself (I didn’t sob - just some silent tears falling). My life, well, it hasn’t been easy. I’ve never wanted people to feel sorry for me, or anything like that, but - this is something that will probably let you guess my name - I didn’t grow up in the wizarding world. I was kept away from everything I know (and take for granted) now. If I think of my life as a tapestry… it started out as dark as it could possibly be. When I received my letter, I can pinpoint that moment as an explosion of colour - bright, bright colours that I associate with one of the happiest moments of my life. 

But then it gets dark again. So dark. I know that I can’t change this. What happened when I was younger has shaped me into the person I am now, and in a way I’m grateful. But I’m also angry because it could have been so different for me. The war was just a culmination of how shit (sorry, not sure if I should swear in these letters?) my situation was. Again, this might clue you in as to who I am, but I don’t care anymore. You’ve helped me realise that I haven’t just suppressed memories of the war, but some whole sections of my life. ~~I think your letters are also starting to add some colour to my tapestry.~~

I need to be able to talk to you freely about everything, but I’m afraid that once you know who I am you won’t want to be my Mind Healer (friend?) anymore. I’d be willing to bet that you know more about me than I know myself. Everyone else seems to. 

I’m sorry if I’ve brought back any bad memories for you. The attack was really awful, and I hope I never am in that situation again. I will take your advice if I am though. Or, I will try, at least. I’m normally not afraid to get involved in… physical situations. My friends would tell you as much. But that night it was so different to anything I’d ever been involved in at school. Looking back, the school fights I was involved in weren’t that serious (although they seemed it at the time). They weren’t (usually) a life or death situation. I deeply regret the rivalry that I was involved in at school. I said and did things that will never be okay, and if I could see him again now, I’d apologise for them. I never got round to it in the aftermath of the war, but I definitely owe him one. I don’t suppose he’ll accept it, but I need to try. Ultimately we ended up on the same side at the end of the war. If things had been different we may have been on the same side all along.

I have been prone to accidental magical flares in the past. I could feel my magic bubbling up that night - I suppose that was another reason that I didn’t feel like I could get involved. Which seems selfish of me, now that I think about it. I expect you’re going to say that I shouldn’t think like that because it’s beating myself up about it, but I can’t help it. I shouldn’t have cared about protecting the wizarding world when people were being hurt. I should have been able to step in somehow. I don’t think I’ll be able to get away from that thought. If I’d stepped in at the time, I wouldn’t have had the meltdown that I did and the Ministry wouldn’t have felt the need to get involved. I’m sorry, now I sound like I’m not grateful for your help - I am, I truly am. I’m just writing as I think again. 

I don’t scream into a pillow very often anymore. Not since I got my own house. Now I can just scream without fear of being clipped round the head for making a racket. Living alone has its benefits I suppose. 

Please don’t pet your cat until she’s bald. I’d feel horrible if that happened because I stopped writing. I have no intention of stopping, even if I feel like this letter is all over the place with my rambling.

After reading your letter, I took a moment this morning to reflect on my actions last night. I took (as I do most nights) some Dreamless Sleep. I never drink a full bottle - not anymore. In the months immediately following the war, I was taking a full bottle every night. It was the only way I could ensure I would sleep. On nights that I didn’t take it, that’s when the nightmares came. It was just easier to keep taking the potion and it’s been even easier to just carry on. A few drops are enough now, but one day I would like to dream again without fear of my dreams being invaded by Voldemort. I don’t know if that’s something you can help with, but telling you about it is a start, right?

I’m going to end by telling you who I am. If you haven’t already guessed, that is. You will likely know of me at the very least. Depending on your age, we may even have been at school together which will make these letters awkward - but I don’t regret writing them, and I hope we can continue, even if you never tell me your name. I don’t want to feel embarrassed about seeking help anymore. I know that this doesn’t make me weak. 

I’m already looking forward to your next letter. (Am I allowed to ask you questions about your life? ~~Do you still want to write to me? Or want me to write to you?~~ )

Until next time. 

Harry James Potter


	6. Letter Six

Hello ~~stranger~~ Harry,

I am glad to hear you’re looking forward to these letters, it is very good to know you are able to do that. I personally struggled for years to look forward to anything, back when my depression was at its worst, and ever since I have grown to appreciate excitement a lot more.

It is nice that writing things down helps you, since it is one of the easiest ways to put some distance between you and whatever the thing is you are writing about. Some of my friends found it did nothing for them, and though the alternatives that they found, like talking groups or some very peculiar hobbies, did help them, a piece of parchment and a quill are usually easier to find.

That is not to say that you should not try out other things however, because sometimes writing doesn’t help, or it is not enough, or you just need a change of pace. In that case, like I said, a talk group or an immersive hobby (one of my friends does free diving in her spare time. It is a muggle thing where you dive with just you and your swimsuit and nothing else) can really help. Be careful what you choose though. Having a risky hobby combined with a fluctuating mental state can go wrong fast. My tip: don’t get into wine tasting, it does not end well.

As for talking to your owl, I wish I had been that wise in my early years, I think my friends would have appreciated that over me always complaining about everything to them. Now that I think about it, maybe that was why I got a rubber duck in my second year as a Christmas present. That always puzzled me until now.

Please keep fueling that love for the outdoors. People often do not realise it, and I have not mentioned it so far since you already mentioned going for frequent walks, but being around nature is one of the best and easiest ways to get out of your own head. It is not always enough, in my experience, when emotions are running high.

But in between those peaks, going outside is a great way to relax. Feeling bad about yourself and the world is a lot harder when you are enjoying a cup of tea in the sun. My father became a recluse in the last years of his life, and making someone see the light in their life is a lot harder when they never see the sun. But I will not bother you with those details, as his case is not even remotely close to yours.

As for the empty house, I have some experience with that. I live in an old family home, one that we only used during holidays which we only took before the war. It was never tainted by war trauma that way, but I still found myself dreading the empty hallways and old portraits as I recovered from my depression.

Just after the war ended, that house was a safe haven for me, a good, quiet place to go to. Somewhere to be alone with my thoughts, where I could fight the demons inside my head without having to fight the demons of the house as well.

But it is like the demons from inside my mind started to occupy the once untainted rooms, furniture and hallways of that house. Each corner had a memory of a panic attack, each pattern on the wall had been followed endlessly by my eyes as I was forced to stay awake after a nightmare.

You might grow, but your house does not automatically grow with you.

I have never been more grateful for my best friend when she came over one day, found me staring at the bathtub, and decided that things had to change. She has never been one for patience, so the next day she had gathered all of my friends and together they redecorated the entire place, painted over cabinets, changed the wallpaper, made a better guest room, wider windows, a proper kitchen, the works.

That experience made it clear to me that however much the tradition and history of a house is important, its occupant always comes first. You live in that house, you have to be there nearly every day and you deserve to come home to a place that actually feels like that, like _home_.

So my advice to you, if your house feels big and lonely, change it. Out with the old, with the memories of those dark days that keep you chained to the past, and in with the new, better present and future. If you have a family home like me, it might help to remember, if your family loved you, then they would want you to be happy. Their history should not be more important than your happiness in their eyes. And if they did not love you? Then sod them, then they do not even deserve to be remembered.

Revealing your name to me is a big step, but everything should be fine as these matches are made to be most beneficial to you by my superiors. They had a good reason to pick me for you and it does not have to change anything between us, except for that you can now talk more freely.

It is certainly a good choice to tell me who you are if you think that would ease or even erase your anxiety about talking to me, although even if I would be able to guess from your information who you are, I would never use that against you or assume things about you that I know from outside of this letter exchange. It is part of my job not to do that, and I feel like it would be rude to you if I broke that rule.

You certainly will not be the last person to cry after the tapestry story. I certainly did, and for me it were more than just a few tears. Crying is never a bad thing, and I have learned to stop fighting those emotions over the years. It is just a detail, but I feel like it has to be said that there is no shame in crying whatsoever.

I will not deny that reading about how your tapestry looks made a big impact on me. A life starting in the dark, especially for such a long time, needs a lot of light later on to make up for that, and it sounds like so far you have not gotten that. I was beyond happy to read that my letters have helped add colour, but I do want to tell you again that, apart from trying to get better yourself, friends are also a massive part of adding that colour.

You do not have to talk to them about your bad days, about the times when things feel shit, about your mental health issues. You can keep things light and happy, just as long as you make sure there are _things_. Make sure you see them, throw an impromptu party, invite them over for high tea, take them out to dinner. In fact, I would like to assign you some homework with this letter, which is plan something with your friends. It can be anything, from a walk in the park to a holiday to Greece. Just make sure they know how much you appreciate them.

I grew up in an environment where showing any kind of affection was not done and sometimes I need to be actively reminded of the fact that just because I know in my head that I love my friends, that does not always mean they know that too.

As for swearing in your writing, please do, if you feel like it. These letters are an outlet for your emotions and shouldn’t adhere to any social etiquette about politeness, since that just is not how thoughts work. Especially when you feel angry, I can see the need to swear.

Your feelings of anger about how dark your past has been are very understandable and valid, though I do hope you do not drown in them. Everyone reacts in their own way, and I know too many people who got angry at the world and locked everyone out, while others got angry at specific people and did very foolish things, while I personally turned my anger on myself, which can get nasty really fast.

Scream into your pillow, walk, write, talk to an owl, but do not hold on to your anger just because it is justified. Anger leaves no place for lightness. If we are giving advice anyway, I would also like to suggest not to doubt my loyalty when it comes to being your friend. I was not put in Slytherin for nothing, I am loyal to a fault.

As for being your therapist, only you can decide on that. I will tell you who I am as well, once I know who you are (which I don’t know yet since I reply to your letter as I read). Once the anonymity of this exchange is gone, you would not be the first person to decide to call quits. I want you to know that you are absolutely at liberty to do that, and I will not be mad in any way, and I will not be hurt by it even if you want to discontinue because of who I am. You can request a different correspondent, no matter the reason.

I just want that to be absolutely clear because the last thing I want is for you to lose your help because you no longer feel comfortable to talk to me but do not dare to ask for anyone else.

I very much doubt I know more about you than you do yourself, though. We sometimes need the insight of an outsider to see certain things, the way we are talking with each other now, but in the end, _you_ are the only person who knows yourself best.

The only one who can get close to knowing you that well is a very good friend or a lifelong spouse. Definitely not the majority of people though, and definitely not me (unless your name is Pansy Parkinson, which I doubt though I do not know it for sure).

There is no need to fear that you made me feel bad. Of course the memory you brought back with your story of what happened to you was one that packed a punch, but I would not do the work I do if I did not know how to cope with that. There is nothing that you should not tell me about yourself because you fear it might hurt me.

Somehow I am not surprised to learn that you are hot-headed. I was too, back at Hogwarts, and my situation sounds quite similar to yours. I am not proud of the fact that I never apologised either. I wrote maybe one hundred of apology letters, but I never had the courage to send them.

I do not think the people I fought with back at Hogwarts would forgive me, they definitely do not have any obligation to, but I always found that it helps to think that if you hurt people in the past, that does not mean you cannot help others now. And not being able to earn the forgiveness of those people you hurt, is no reason to not try and better yourself. If we are supposed to act like the worst people we have once been, then this world would be a horrible place to live. People can really surprise you when you allow them to change.

You are right to think I do not agree with beating yourself up about things that happened in the past. I know how tempting that can be, but it will not change what happened and you can use that energy for something more useful. Not that emotions listen to that kind of reasoning, but it is always worth a try.

As for feeling guilty about not using your magic, I really would advise against that because it really is not a good idea to use uncontrolled magic in a situation like that. When you are angry or afraid or you try to hurt someone when you are in that state, things can quickly go too far. You might try to push people aside with a spell and end up crushing them against a wall. Someone tried to stop me once when I was doing something catastrophically stupid and ended up nearly killing me, while in hindsight not doing anything would have saved both of us a lot of harm.

And revealing magic to muggles is never a good idea. Some take it well, but a lot of them are terrified of the unknown and can get violent, plus the harm of a botched obliviation job is quite severe and more common than you might think. Not stepping in in this case prevented hurt rather than caused it.

I am proud of you for stepping away from the situation, and hope you understand and agree with me on why I feel so proud. Sometimes there is nothing we can do and that sucks but it is the way of life, and we will have to deal with that.

But again, don’t worry about offending or hurting me, I have a thick skin.

In case you are worried about my cat, she’s been rolling around on my best coat ever since I started writing this letter. I think she is offended that I think writing you is more important than petting her. Judging by the amount of hairs she has left on my coat you would say she will go bald very soon, but so far no luck. Maybe I should have gotten a sphynx instead of a ragdoll, but I would rather die than get rid of her now, even if she ruins all my clothes.

Do not apologise for there not being any rhyme or reason to your letters. They are actually quite coherent compared to the horror I sometimes get from my friends (they tend to write while drunk) and it is not like my letters are perfectly ordered. They could be, I followed about a million courses on calligraphy, handwriting, grammar and psychology, but so far the response has been a lot better when I write like this. And I am happy to hear that you have no intention of stopping, though please do feel free to change your mind once you know who I am.

I am glad you told me about your Dreamless sleep habit. My mother has a history of addiction with those so I never took them, but I do have experiences with people close to me taking them because of that. She says it helps her if she does something active before bed like jogging, and then reads a peaceful book until she falls asleep. Another tip would be a white noise machine, they make it easier to fall asleep and calm your mind for some, though others absolutely hate them. You have to find out and see what works for you.

A muggle thing called ‘mindfulness’ can also really help, and so can yoga. The best solution I have found so far for me, personally, is to share a bed with someone. I do not mean sex, I mean just sleeping together with someone you care about. I have done some foolish things in my dark days, and after one of those, my friends decided I was not allowed to sleep alone anymore.

I thought it was ridiculous and patronising at first, but it really is not. It is just love. A warm body next to you, keeping you save and greeting you with a smile in the morning can make a world of difference. But again, this is all very personal and you will only find a solution with trial and error. I hope you do try to find that solution though. A good dream can do wonders for your mental health and usually calms the mind during the day.

I am glad you do not regret writing these letters so far. I… do not know what to say now that I read who you are. Congratulations Potter, you got me speechless. Pansy would be proud. She would also laugh at my shocked face.

I suppose it is now time to finally send my apology letter, about a million years late. I am sorry I was such a colossal arse to you in the past. I am sorry I hurt your friends, I am sorry for all the bad shit I did in the war and before it. I am so so sorry for making your life even harder than it already was.

I really do not expect you to write back to me, but I do hope that you will consider listening to some of my advice. Cut off this part of the letter and throw it out if you have to, but I would hate for your progress to be lost. I will communicate with my superiors about getting you a different correspondent. I know I said it was up to you, but I do not think I can continue to write to you like this. In my head that will never be my place. I am so sorry.

Some part of me hopes you will write back, as an... acquaintance of some sort. I will not be so bold as to assume you would want to be friends. I hope life will treat you better for now on.

Draco Malfoy


	7. Letter Seven

Hello again, 

I do look forward to your letters, as odd as it may sound since we have only exchanged a few but I enjoy your words… that may sound even more odd. But it’s true. I’ve always looked forward to simple things - as a child, I looked forward to being alone in my cupboard because it meant I wasn’t getting beaten up by my cousin or shouted at by my aunt and uncle. After I started at Hogwarts, I looked forward to going back to school at the end of the holidays. Some people would think that’s pathetic, I suppose, but my school days at Hogwarts are definitely some of the brightest threads in my tapestry. Even the fights and arguments I had with my rival are bright threads because they weren’t the same as being beaten up by my cousin. We were more equal than that. 

I’ve started keeping a journal so I can write in that in between sending you letters. I’ve been writing random thoughts down, as well as memories - good and bad - and I think it is helping. I feel… lighter. 

Your word of warning regarding wine tasting is duly noted. Thankfully, I’m not keen on wine as it is, so I don’t think I’ll be tempted by that one. I did, in a moment of madness, buy a guitar. Perhaps I’ll teach myself to play as I imagine that will keep my mind off anything too horrible or upsetting. I’ve always wanted to learn. I tried to have a go of my cousin’s electric guitar once. He whined and whined for it one year and got what he wanted. I think he “played” it once and then he never looked at it again. But I still wasn’t allowed a go. He punched me for even looking at it.

Did you appreciate the rubber duck? I imagine not if it confused you. While I was at Hogwarts, I would usually talk to my friends or occasionally Professor Lupin (in third year). Talking to my owl usually happened at home during the holidays. Being locked in my bedroom (I graduated to a bedroom after my first year - my family were afraid I’d use magic against them) meant I only had my owl for company. She was locked in her cage too, so we had that in common at least. I miss her a lot, but I don’t think I’m ready to get a new owl yet. 

I think I’m the opposite. When my emotions are running high, I like nothing more than to be out walking among the trees. I can’t feel angry when all I can hear is nature - running water and bird song are some of my favourite sounds. It’s hard to find places like that in London, so I usually have to get out of the city. That is sometimes risky if I apparate and I know I should probably be more careful but I’m always very focused on where I need to be at moments like that. I can’t imagine never leaving the house. 

The house I live in is definitely the complete opposite of yours. It was used heavily during the war as a headquarters. I have cleaned it up a lot, but I admit I haven’t changed much about it. It was my godfather’s house, and I still sort of feel that I’d be betraying his memory if I completely gutted the place and redecorated. There’s also an old house elf who is very… attached to certain things in the house and he would NOT be happy if I got rid of everything. I spend most of my time in the bedroom I sleep in, so I have changed that. I think that’s why I spend so much time in there, it feels like a much happier room than the rest of the house. It’s full of photos of the people I love most and the people who have been most important to me over the years. It will be no surprise that I have no photos of my aunt, uncle and cousin in there (but it may surprise you that there are some of my school rival and his friends). 

It sounds like you are very lucky to have such a good friend. I know the feeling you describe well - that’s why I spend so much time in my bedroom - that and old habits die hard. Perhaps I should ask my friends if they’d like to come and help me sort my house out. It feels like it might finally be time to do that and I’m sure they’d be happy to help. It would be nice to start making new memories there rather than being constantly reminded of the past. Once again, your words make a lot of sense. 

I know I waited until the last moment of my letter, but signing with my name lifted another weight off my shoulders. Knowing that I can speak freely helps a lot - as I think you’ve probably seen in the paragraphs above. I hope I’m not rambling too much. I don’t think you’ll break the rules even though you know my name now. You’re good at your job, and I think that must mean you don’t break the rules so I trust you.

I must admit, I’ve cried a couple more times thinking about the tapestry story. I never would have thought about life like that if it hadn’t been for you, but it makes so much sense. Crying was always something I was punished for as a child, so I’ve probably not done it as much as I should have in the past. I’ve definitely done it more in recent years for various reasons. 

I think I made my tapestry sound more bleak than it is really. It’s definitely dark at the beginning. My years before Hogwarts were miserable, losing my parents is something I can’t really remember, of course, but living with my aunt and uncle wasn’t a happy time. Being beat up by my cousin happened regularly, my aunt and uncle couldn’t have cared less and usually blamed me for it all. It was lucky that I could outrun Dudley if I had the chance, he couldn’t catch me on foot and neither could his friends. My time at Hogwarts is certainly the brightest part of my tapestry - almost every day spent there was enjoyable. Fifth year was a bit duller, I suppose, but still not as dark as the times spent in my aunt and uncle’s house. Sixth and seventh year were darker still, but there were bright spots in there - put there by my friends. I know that whenever I spend time with them, they’re adding more bright threads, so no worries there. I am going to fire call them as soon as I’ve finished writing this letter to ask them over for dinner - and I’ll mention redecorating the house too. 

I don’t really swear too often but sometimes it’s an easier outlet than letting my magic flare up. There’s something therapeutic about screaming curse words out loud. I try not to get too stuck in my head, but around anniversaries it’s hard. Those dates are burned into my mind and I can’t help feeling angry all over again that people died. 

It’s always been an odd thought for me to be friends with a Slytherin, but… maybe I should have paid more attention to the Sorting Hat when it was trying to promote house unity. If we’d all made more effort at school maybe things would have turned out a bit differently. I can assure you that I won’t be asking for another therapist. I don’t think I’d feel comfortable talking to someone else like this.

My name is definitely not Pansy Parkinson, as I’m sure you know by now. (I, too, am replying while reading so don’t know your name yet.) My friends know me quite well, but even they don’t know everything about me. I don’t know why, but there are some things that I’ve kept quite private over the years. They might feel disappointed that I haven’t been able to confide in them, but they’re thoughts that I’m still getting used to myself. I will tell them when I’m ready, I can promise that. 

I admire your ability to do the work you do without being affected by everything you hear. I don’t think I’d be able to do it - I tend to pin my heart to my sleeve and that sometimes backfires on me. It certainly did in fifth year, when I lost my godfather. I still feel like it was because of me that he died and that’s… tough to take. 

I testified for my rival and his family after the war. It helped them avoid Azkaban and there’s not a day goes by that I regret my decision to testify. Some people thought I was mad to do it, told me that I should let them rot in prison but if I’d let that happen, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. We might not have seen eye to eye, but he didn’t deserve Azkaban. He wasn’t evil. I’d like to think if we met now, we’d be able to shake hands and maybe even become friends. 

I knew you would say that. I can’t help it though, it’s how I’ve always been. I try not to, but it doesn’t always work. 

I know it’s a bad idea to use uncontrolled magic. I found myself using accidental magic as a child - though I didn’t know it seeing as I didn’t know I was a wizard - and it wasn’t received well. My aunt and uncle… well, they used to hide me away because they were terrified that people would think I wasn’t “normal”. They used to tell people I attended St Brutus’ school for the criminally insane. To be honest, I’m surprised I never developed some kind of complex. 

Your situation does sound very like my own. During an argument with my rival once, I used an unfamiliar spell - I had no idea what it did - and did a lot of damage. I was horrified at myself, and I had no idea how to help him. I regret that moment every day. It’s one of the things I desperately want to apologise to him for. I never got the chance at school - not that I think he would have accepted it and I wouldn’t have blamed him at all. I don’t think he’d have even believed me that I didn’t use the spell with the intention of harming him. 

I’ve always been very careful not to reveal magic to Muggles - while living with my aunt and uncle it was impossible. My wand and school books were always locked away where I couldn’t get them (it’s a miracle I passed any classes). Although in second year, a house elf almost outed me as a wizard to my uncle’s boss - something I paid dearly for later, even though I’d had no idea that the house elf was there and when I did, I tried to stop him from using magic. I did have to use my Patronus in the summer between fourth and fifth year to save my cousin’s life (I might not have liked him, but he didn’t deserve a Dementor’s Kiss) and almost got expelled. I think I was lucky that he knew about magic and that there were no other Muggles around. 

I’m glad to hear your cat is having the time of her life ruining your best coat. She sounds adorable and I’m sure she’d rather you petted her than wasted time writing to me (but I’m very glad you _are_ wasting time writing to me). And, no offence to Sphynx cats, but ragdolls are much more beautiful (I spent a lot of time with a cat-loving neighbour when I was younger - oddly enough, these times have contributed bright threads to my tapestry, now that I think of it). 

I’m also glad that I haven’t confused things too much by jumping back and forth in my letters. I find it much easier to write as I’m thinking and then worry later about whether I’m making sense. I’d like to think I’m not this chaotic in an actual conversation, but you’d have to ask my friends about that. I like your handwriting, by the way. It’s much nicer to look at than mine. 

I would really like to stop taking the Dreamless Sleep. I don’t remember the last time I had a nice dream (I imagine it was some time before fifth year). I think there’s some truth to activity before bed helping with sleep. I never had trouble sleeping after Quidditch practice at school. Perhaps I’ll try going for a little jog around the park near my house some time. I quite like the sound of a white noise machine - silence allows my thoughts to take over, which I suppose is why I take the Dreamless Sleep. My street is surprisingly quiet at night. 

I haven’t had anybody to share a bed with in a long time. I know what you mean about having someone there when you wake up. It’s one of the things I miss about school - not that I was sharing beds with anyone there, but being in a dormitory meant there was always someone there the next morning. Are you still not allowed to sleep alone? (sorry, that might have been too personal a question - feel free to ignore it!)

Well… after reading that I’d rendered you speechless, I read ahead to see your name. And now, well, I’m crying again. Everything in my head is screaming at me not to tell you that, but I don’t want to hide anything from you. I had an inkling that I knew you when you mentioned Pansy earlier. I didn’t imagine it would be you that I’ve been talking to. But… I’m actually quite glad it is. 

It’s time for my apology too, then. I apologise for using that spell against you in sixth year, I apologise for punching you in fifth year and for letting Ron punch you twice during the battle at Hogwarts. I apologise for not shaking your hand in first year. I was too scared that being in Slytherin would make me a bad person - I know now that that’s not the case. I apologise for not making more of an effort to talk to you in that bathroom - I knew something was wrong and I made it worse. I’m so, so sorry for that. 

I have no intention of throwing any of your letters out. I want to implore you not to ask your superiors to assign me someone else - but I know that’s your choice, just as you reminded me I was free to ask for someone else. I… I would really like to continue writing to you. I would like it even better if we could, perhaps, meet? For a drink - not wine - or lunch? 

I regret so many of my decisions in the past, but saving you is not one of them and neither is testifying for you. I would really, really like to at least try to be friends with you. You have helped me more than you know during the exchanging of our letters and I will forever be grateful for them, even if you decide you don’t want anything more to do with me (I really hope you don’t decide that). 

Please, please don’t let your previous letter be your last. 

Harry


	8. Letter Eight

Hello Harry,

I am, as of two days ago, officially no longer your therapist. I am also strictly speaking not allowed to contact you anymore, but given that our first contact did not originate from this therapy program, my supervisors have given me the green light to send you this. However, even though you did not sound like you would in your last letter, you are allowed to request a complete cease of communication to which I will abide without question.

Now that we have the legalities out of the way, Potter, you idiot. I have made sure that the therapy side of your last letter landed on the desk of the colleague who will now oversee your correspondence. It did not sound like very light matter to me, which is why, as an I-do-not-know-what-the-fuck-I-am-to-you, I am telling you now that the stupidly old age of twenty nine is way too late to be seeing your first therapist.

I had my first therapist at fourteen. Fourteen! You know, during that year in which you came back from a graveyard with the dead body of your second crush in your hands? (I know Wood was your first. I know Pansy, who knows Hermione, so I basically know everything). Anyhow, you should have seen a therapist then! Or after your Godfather died or when Dumbledore died or just, fuck, as soon as someone found out you have been abused for the first eleven years of your life or _any_ time before six weeks ago.

Life is hard, Potter. I know it is not common practice in our world and I know you Gryffindors all seem very keen on solving your problems alone, even though that usually just makes things worse, but this should be a different scenario. I have never been Dumbledore's greatest fan, even though I would never have been able to kill him, and this just makes me dislike him even more. He should have looked out for you, Potter!

He should have cared, should not have treated you like a bloody string puppet in this weird play that he made of the war. He knew I had been tasked to murder him under the threat of losing my life and Voldemort killing my parents, and he never did a single thing except offer an empty promise on top of the astronomy tower. I already did not like him because of that, though I understood because I had not exactly been a model student, but the lack of help to you is the icing on a very crap cake.

I need you to know this because I do not think anyone has ever told you this in such a way that you actually understood it, but You. Deserve. Help. Especially as a kid, that is what adults are for. But reading your letters makes me understand that you have not been brought up with that idea, so I will try and explain it to you.

Parents, or guardians, ought to love their children unconditionally. There is nothing that a child has to do to earn the love from their parents because _you_ did not choose to be born, but _they_ did choose to have you one way or another. When you sign up for a kid, you sign up for giving them love.

I did not realise how important that was until my father’s love changed from seemingly unconditional to very conditional indeed. I will not mention what he has done, but to put it mildly, I would not lift a finger to keep him out of danger now, had he still been alive.

My mother, however, never left my side. She is the one who got me that therapist at fourteen. It had never been spoken about until then, my father just said my mother was often tired and did not enjoy the outdoors, but when I was fourteen I found out that she was ill. To be precise, she was depressed, had been for years, and she had wanted to shield me from it by keeping it silent. Once she started to see the signs in me though, she pulled me aside and told me everything. Well, most things. I was only fourteen at the time, and she did not want to give me any ideas.

But she did break the silence and got me help. Discreet help, help my father did not know about, help no one but her and my therapist knew about, but help nonetheless. That is what people who care for you should have done. And I am sure that some of them simply did not know how to see the signs, but I do not believe no one noticed it. Dumbledore knew it at the very least.

What I am trying to say with all this, is that while growing up, help has not been offered to you, but that was not because you did not need it, or because you did not deserve it. Quite the opposite, in fact.

If I had not had my therapist when I was fourteen, I would not have accepted one when I was eighteen. I would have blamed my mental problems on myself, would have shut everything out, let things rot and ended up dead within a year. Shutting up and ignoring your problems will not restore the chemical imbalance in your brain. Being surrounded by good things and love and friends and a fuckton of puppies will not stop your trauma from being traumatising. Walking around on a broken leg while screaming that you are fine will not heal your bones.

~~Oh Merlin, I am sounding like a therapist again. How have I ever gone from always sounding like an entitled dick to always sounding like a therapist?~~

Sometimes people need help, Potter, and that is okay. It took me a lot of pain to come to terms with that. You do not want to know how desperate I was for literally _anything_ that might be able to make me feel less shit in fourth year. You did not see it, no one really did, because I did alright around people, but the nights…

My boggart in fourth year was my bed. My own bed, where behind closed curtains, my mind was doing a damned good job at preparing me for the fear of war we were about to experience. It was not triggered by trauma, but by my bloodline. The Black family has always had a history of mental illness. I still take medication now, because even though my PTSD is as well managed as it can be, a lack of what the muggles call ‘your happy hormone’ will never get fixed with therapy. I will have to take medication for the rest of my life in order to stay alive. It is a chronic illness, and one that I cannot possibly deal with on my own.

If my mother had not taught me that I deserve help for my illness, I would be dead. I do not want that to happen to you, just because no one has told you the way my mother has for me, that you deserve that help. That you should not wait for a breakdown and a mandatory ministry letter exchange. That you should not, when you feel uncomfortable saying certain things to your friends, bottle everything up.

I honestly do not care whether or not you think it is my place to say this. You said you would like to get another letter from me, well, here it is. It is hard to miss, though a lot of things seem to be going over your head, Potter, but I am quite passionate about these things.

One too many time I have seen people die just because they could not get over the shame to ask for help, or the idea that they were not worth it, or that they did not want to bother people. And by one too many times, I mean I have seen all of my friends hurt themselves by _not_ having that help. I have been too late before. I am not going to be too late again. It is why I do this whole anonymous letter program. If anonymity is what it takes to get people the help they need then that is how it will be.

That does not, however, take away the fact that I am no longer your therapist, no matter how much I might still sound like it. That is just my standard way of ranting these days. With our shared past, I cannot offer you that help. If you want to get some good, proper help, and for the love of Merlin, Potter, please tell me that you do, you need to be able to talk freely about everything in your life. Even if that is about how annoying your ginger friend can be sometimes, or why that stupid blond git always tried to ruin your life back in school. ~~I was jealous. So there, I said it.~~

So, I cannot be your therapist. You cannot talk that freely to me because no matter if you like it or not, I am part of the past and the trauma that you need to be able to talk about. I might not have made myself clear on that point in my last letter, given that I was still somewhat shocked from finding out who you are, but this is the full reason. And though I will admit I can sound like a bloody therapist literally all the time (Pansy’s words, not mine), I am _not_ your therapist.

Whatever the fuck I am to you now is for you to decide. I did request you write back in a friendly capacity, you idiot, so no, I will not say yes to your request to please keep writing to you, since _I_ was the one who made that request first. You cannot just steal my question, Potter, that is not how it works. Honestly, you would think the Saviour of the Magical world had more than two brain cells, but maybe I should not have expected that given that fact that you only seem to know a single duelling spell.

As for your request to meet, it depends. My professional voice is not my day to day voice. If you feel in any way offended by what I have written in this letter so far, I would say it is best we take it a bit more slowly. Basically, as Pansy calls it, I let my friends know I like them by (not always very) gently bullying them. That part of me will never change. If you feel up for the challenge, I suggest we could stop by at Luna’s cat cafe Wednesday afternoon. I heard their treacle tart is almost adequate.

Yours,

Draco Malfoy


	9. Letter Nine

Hello Draco,

It’s weird to write that. 

You’ll be pleased to note that I have begun correspondence with another Mind Healer. 

As for being offended by your last letter, please. I don’t think you’ve ever offended me (aside from once or twice) and even if you have, I’m not easily put off. 

You have always been something of a challenge, and I am more than up for it. I’ll see you at Luna’s cafe on Wednesday. Is two pm okay? That’s what time I’ll be there. 

Harry


	10. Companion Drabble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Betaed by[https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyItsGem/pseuds/HeyItsGem”>HeyItsGem](%E2%80%9D<u) (AO3) / [https://potter-loves-malfoy.tumblr.com”>@potter-loves-malfoy](%E2%80%9D<u) (Tumblr)_

Luna looked up as the bell over the door chimed. Her eyes lit up when she spotted who had just entered.

“Hello, Harry,” she greeted him happily, in her lilting Irish accent. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“Hi, Luna,” Harry replied with a smile. “No, I’m… meeting someone. Hopefully. If he turns up,” he finished sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

Luna gave a secretive smile and gestured to a cosy looking booth at the back of the cafe. “He will, I’m sure.”

Harry gave her an odd look, but followed her gesture and took a seat in the booth.

Luna didn’t mind the odd look, she was used to getting those. She was not, however, used to her old schoolmates using her cafe as a meeting place. She had a feeling that neither Harry or the person he was meeting would pay her cats any attention whatsoever, and that made her sad. Her cats were the perfect matchmakers in her opinion.

She glanced at Harry again, watching as he literally twiddled his thumbs in front of him. She understood now. He was nervous. Well, she could help with that. Bending down, she scooped up the cat that was rolling on the floor at her feet.

“Aurora, I have a job for you,” she said softly, nuzzling her nose into the cat’s soft fur. “My friend Harry is nervous. I think that he’s worried about the Wrackspurts keeping his friend away, but if it’s who I think it is, I am positive he will find a way to get past them. You need to keep Harry company for a while to keep the Wrackspurts away, ok?”

She approached Harry’s booth and carefully set Aurora down beside him. “Harry, this is Aurora. She likes to play with string,” she said, dropping a length of red wool onto the table before walking away to tidy the cups.

Watching out of the corner of her eye, she could see the bemused expression on Harry’s face turn to amusement as he picked up the string and Aurora immediately pounced for it. The ragdoll cat was one of the youngest in the cafe, but she was also one of the most empathetic. Luna smiled as she sensed Harry’s nerves disappearing.

A few seconds later, the bell over the door chimed again and Luna glanced up once more. Her eyes twinkled as she saw Draco making his way towards Harry’s booth, confirming her suspicions. As he sat down, he immediately reached a hand out to Aurora and Luna smiled again. She knew that Aurora had been the perfect cat for the job, given that Draco owned her cousin.

She watched carefully as Harry and Draco greeted each other somewhat awkwardly, though they were soon smiling fondly at Aurora.

Giving them a few minutes, she picked up her order pad and made her way back to the booth to take their order. By the time she reached them, she couldn’t sense any awkwardness, just an air of hopefulness.

Draco ordered a coffee for himself and a pot of tea for Harry, along with two slices of treacle tart. Luna smiled and skipped back to the counter to ring the order through. She saw Draco regularly, but this was the first time he’d ever ordered the treacle tart and she wasn’t so lost in her own world that she missed the reason why.

Casting a glance over her shoulder, she could see Harry and Draco deep in conversation. If she wasn’t mistaken, they were sitting closer than they had been previously. Aurora was still perched on the table in front of them. Her paws were tucked under her and she was purring contentedly, with both Harry and Draco stroking her fur.

Luna levitated the tray containing the order for Harry and Draco directly to their table. She didn’t want to interrupt what was clearly an intimate conversation, judging by the hushed tones they were using. If she was as intuitive as she liked to believe, this wouldn’t be the last time she saw the two men. This thought made her happy. It had been far too long since she had seen either man as relaxed as they looked right now.


End file.
